By the Book, Mostly
by Kiba Sniper
Summary: Interrogating the psychic criminal they brought is easy, but Bobby isn't happy about what happened during the mission especially as Chloe keeps itching their bandages. (Content warnings: violence, implied minor character death.)


By the Book, Mostly

The room was cramped with dull gray walls. A quick glance around gave him the understanding that there were no security cameras, clocks, or windows. Just four walls and a mahogany door, which by itself stood out as odd. He knew the Psychonauts were more technical, so, seeing a door made out of wood clashed with what he knew about the Motherlobe's design.

He leaned back in his seat, the leather sticking to his skin. Under the dull fluorescent light, he expected as much. He kept having to readjust his posture, crossing one leg over the other or rocking back and forth, ignoring the dangling chains and cuffs around his waist, ankles, and wrists.

He assumed it was at least twenty minutes since they dragged him inside and locked the door. A yawn escaped him as he sunk into his seat. The PSI lock fastened around his head made him drop to the side, the extra weight only making him feel even drowsier.

_This kind of light doesn't do any wonders for my skin,_ he thought, glancing at his arm, his natural lime color a shade paler than usual. _Maybe I can get those bastards to switch over to another room with some natural sunshine and-_

The door clicked, and he sucked down a quiet breath. The outside lighting shone into the room, causing the agents' shadows to appear much larger. He flicked his gaze to them, his nose wrinkling as they stared at him, taking in his lanky form dressed in dark slacks and a wine stained wife-beater. He sunk even lower in his seat, stretching his legs out as they entered, the one with the strange helmet closing the door behind them.

"G'mornin', my fellow freakshows," he said, saluting them. "What's goin' on? A little interrogation on the menu, ah?"

"David Ainsworth, the British Brain Melt," the one with the helmet said, looking down at their clipboard as their cohort leaned against the wall. "This is Agent Bobby Zilch. We'll questioning you today."

The one with the helmet was taller than their associate by a couple inches. They dressed in the standard Psychonauts uniform with a loose belt around their waist. Their voice was somewhat lower than they expected from such a thin person. He also couldn't see their face. It was shielded by the reflective orange material of their helmet, causing him to focus on their partner. His hair was wild and curly, styled into a strange lopsided pompadour, which seemed entirely ridiculous. He fixed his glasses and crossed his arms, narrowing his glare on David. Compared to his partner, he wore jeans and a Psychonauts sweater with the sleeves ripped, showing off a few burn scars along his forearms.

David's smirk showed too many teeth as the helmeted agent settled into the chair opposite of him. "Charmed, love. I didn't expect to get what I hope is a pretty face doin' the interrogatin'."

Bobby dug his fingers into his biceps, but they raised their hand, keeping their stare focused on David. He visibly relaxed, but his arms remained crossed, and he tapped his boot against the wall.

"We'd usually go into your mind to get what we need, but your mental defenses are very strong. Not even our best agents could get inside," they said, pulling the thick sheets of paper out of the clipboard.

"I got a tough noggin'. Haven't had any of you wankers get in." He leaned forward and licked his lips. "So, what's with the helmet? You got an ugly mug or somethin'? Dashing my hopes, are ya?"

Bobby snarled under his breath as they clicked their tongue against the roof of their mouth. They flipped over another page of their report and said, "You melt the brains of women who spurn you using a rare form of blastokinesis. Is that correct?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, just getting right to it? I don't mind." He shrugged. "Yeah. That's what I do. Melt those harpies' minds until it's all like mud."

"And the recent assault in your string of murders involved a Psychonaut," they said, setting the clipboard on the table and folding their hands. "Does the name 'Chloe Barge' mean anything to you?"

"Chloe-? Oh, that chickadee." He waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, she tried nabbin' me when I was on the run. I got a good blast on her and made her fall back into an alley, I think." Sighing, he shook his head. "Wish I made that brain melt though. She's the only one that got away durin' my week of terror in the London streets."

"According to our intelligence, you are responsible for the murders of four women and one assault on a Psychonaut. In the case of the women, you knew each of them. Two of them were co-workers and the other two were college classmates. All of them refused to go on dates with you-" They tilted their head up and down. "-for understanding reasons."

David's mouth twitched into a scowl as Bobby snickered, snapping, "Hey! They're the ones who had it comin'-!"

"So, you plotted their very painful demise all because you couldn't accept no for an answer." They continued as if he hadn't interjected. Raising their gaze, they slipped their hand underneath their helmet and pressed their hand to the forehead. "I've seen many despicable humans in my life, but you're in a league of your own."

"That's a compliment, love." He winked, and Bobby bristled.

They squared their shoulders. "And you're relishing in your abhorrence. I can't pick up any remorse from you."

"Keep this up, and I'll start blushin'."

Bobby dug his elbow into the wall, his brow furrowing, but at a glance they sent back to him, he grunted out a sigh. He rubbed through his hair, keeping his steady glare on David.

"Let me ask you a personal question," they said, setting their hand in their lap. "When you killed these women, what did you get out of it?"

David barked out a laugh and threw his head back. The question was so painfully cliched. He felt like he was in the middle of a bad detective novel. Anyone asking that question should have already known his answer, and hearing the agent sigh only gave him greater satisfaction.

"To prove you were better than them. To make them feel fear because they didn't want to date you. To bask in their terror and take in their deaths when you could have used your powers for something grander," they said, shaking their head. "As I suspected, you are entirely unforgivable."

They gripped the sides of their helmet. David immediately leaned forward, watching as they slowly pulled it off their head. He made out their tiny chin and a speckle of brown freckles on their faintly orange skin, but the more he saw, the faster the color drained from his face, and Bobby cracked his knuckles.

Chloe leered at him and set their helmet on the table. Their blonde hair hair was buzzed, but what caught David's attention were the bandages wrapped around their skull. A deep blue bruise seemed painted on their forehead, appearing almost like a pigment disorder. Their large green eyes stared through him as sweat dampened his brow, and he looked at them as if a ghost materialized right in front of him.

"Mr. Ainsworth, I'm Agent Chloe Barge, the one who got away." They scratched through their hair. "You put up a good effort. You almost had me, but you failed to realize my partner snuck up from behind you and PSI blasted you straight into unconsciousness before you could inflict any substantial 'brain melting' my way." They clapped their hands together and lowered their voice. "Isn't that the same way you killed your victims? Lurking behind them and cornering them?"

Sweat dribbled down his cheeks. He slowly shook his head like a cheap animatronic, sputtering, "B-but you-"

"Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't recognize me." They tapped their helmet. "I wore my helmet for this interrogation, and that little detail made you forget my height and figure. It's honestly strange. Perhaps you are as stupid and ignorant as you are malicious and selfish." Chloe stood up as he glared at them, watching his lips curl into a snarl. "Now that we have your confession, we are done here. An agent will be coming to escort you to your holding cell outside of the Motherlobe, and you will face justice for your crimes." They pushed in their seat and glanced over at Bobby. Pausing as they examined in his blank expression, they rolled their shoulders back and offered him their clipboard.

"How'd you do it?" David hissed through gritted teeth. "I was up an' close to ya. I had you cornered. I didn't even see or sense your partner coming up and-"

"Well, like I said, you are stupid and ignorant." Chloe shrugged. "Getting you to corner me wasn't hard considering you liked cornering those poor women before melting their brains. We followed your modus operandi, and we had you right where we wanted you." They itched their scalp through the bandages, their eyes twitching. "Although the injury I sustained was sort of painful, it will heal, and we captured you. In the end, that is what matters."

Their explanation made his expression writhe and muscles tense. He knew their death should have been simple. He thought he had them cornered between those brick apartment buildings after a brief chase. They didn't even use any psychic abilities, and the oddity of that dawned on him, causing his eyes to widen.

They lured him to that spot next to the rusted dumpster. As the shadows crawled over them, he had been so focused on them that he didn't realize Bobby was somehow approaching from behind. He had only managed to singe their scalp with a faint pyrokinetic flare as a warm-up, a sample of what was supposed to be a haunting demise as he laughed over them away from the public's eye, but the sudden pain bursting in his back cemented his downfall, and he realized now that they didn't even look worried.

He shot to his feet and clutched the table, but it was bolted to the floor, unable to flip over. Traces of violet PSI energy sparked out of the PSI lock. Humiliation scorched his complexion a deep crimson. They had been mocking him for the entire interrogation, and the smirk that pressed into Bobby's cheek only made his desire to melt their brains to a pink mush burn hotter.

"Wait 'til I get this stupid lock off my head! Then you'll see! You'll see just like those chicks saw!" David smashed his knuckles onto the table, but they didn't react. It was as if they anticipated his outburst, too, just like they had figured out his murderous schemes.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Chloe announced, handing Bobby the clipboard. "Do you want one?"

"Sure. Put like five of those hazelnut half and halfs in it," he said, and the hairs on the back of David's neck rose at his deep, yet faintly scratchy voice.

"How do you still have teeth?" they mumbled, walking towards the door.

He shrugged. "They're all fillings."

As the door shut behind them, silence engulfed the room. David sat back and streaked his fingers through his mop of brown hair. Huffing out a curse, he raised his head only for his entire world to suddenly go pitch black.

Pain exploded in his face. It spread to the tip of his round nose and burst in his cheeks. His teeth rattled in his jaw as a shrill scream ripped free from the back of his throat. He clutched his face as raw iron contaminated his taste buds. Spitting out a wad of blood on the table, he stared at it, blinking a few times as the pain pulsed in his face.

Bobby hovered over him, his knuckles red with David's blood. He slowly cocked his head, taking in the sight of David whimpering to himself. Cracking his neck, he jeered, "Aw, whassa matter? Ya got punched, shithead. Deal with it. What, you melt some brains, but you can't take what you dish out?"

"You broke my nose," David wheezed, blood dribbling over his lips.

"And you killed four people. Ya think that shit's equal?" Bobby scoffed and snatched the other chair. He smashed it down in front of David, causing him to flinch. Lowering his voice, he said, "You were pretty fuckin' close."

"To what?" He wiped his nose and clutched his armrests.

Bobby punched him across his left cheek, almost sending him spiraling to the floor and causing one of his front teeth to shoot out onto the table. He twisted the chipped tooth between his fingers. As David wailed and clutched his face, he snarled, "Almost killing Chloe, that's what. If you pushed a little harder with that melting shit, they wouldn't be here." He grabbed the chair again and jabbed the leg into David's abdomen, his pained grunt earning a bark of laughter. "Oh, what, that hurts, too? Too fuckin' bad." He tossed the chair aside and watched David clutch his stomach. He crouched down, watching tears prick the corners of his eyes and shook his head. Drumming his fingers against the table, he said, "You're a pretty sick bastard. Thinkin' you can cry after trying to be so high and mighty to me and Chloe."

Bobby straightened as a hiccup escaped David. He leaned on the chair, reveling as David winced. Thumbing through the report on the table, he said, "Oh, yeah, one more thing. You know how there's no cameras in here?" He sneered, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he hovered over him. "You got those injuries when you tried escaping, and I had to do what I had to do, got it?"

The last bit of his pride wanted to defy him, but David nodded. He gnawed on his lower lip, tasting his own blood while Bobby cackled. As the door opened, he bowed his head and whimpered, Chloe's sigh inflicting more agony than his wounds.

"Bobby," they said tiredly as they presented him a paper cup of coffee.

"He tried escaping, so I had to do what I had to do," he said, grinning and accepting the warm drink.

Taking the clipboard, they sighed again. "If that's what you're going to insist, then I guess I can overlook this based on the severity of his crimes." They narrowed their eyes at him. "Let's not have this become a habit, okay? We already talked about this a lot. You're not twelve anymore."

"It's not, it's not. It's a one time thing. I promise." He crossed his fingers behind his back, and only David saw his deception.

Chloe took their helmet off the table and slid it back over their head, saying, "I'm sure it is." Turning to David, they shook their head and added, "Like I said, an agent will be in shortly to take you to a proper holding cell. There, well, what they do with you isn't my concern. I have to get back to space anyway."

"Is Mars in orbit tonight?" Bobby asked, getting the door for them.

"And Jupiter, too. I'll be heading up there by tomorrow night. Would you like to come?"

"Hell yeah."

"Did you finish your paperwork?"

He grimaced and rubbed his neck. "Come on, I can put that off 'til next week or get some intern do it."

"You really should write your own reports instead of pawning them off."

As the door shut behind them and blood continued dripping from his nose, David pressed his forehead against the table and cursed at the top of his lungs.


End file.
